In fact, his whole body seems on edge, excited even.
His whole body moves to keep me in sight as I circle around him.
His feet spin when I do.
His fists clench when I throw my arms in the air.
His mouth parts when mine does to take in a shaky breath.
God.
Reed Roman Jackson is just as eager as me.
Just as tightly wound and I’ve never seen him this way.
I’ve never seen himexcitedfor anything.
The knowledge of that, the knowledge that his heart might be racing just as fast as my heart and that the beads of sweat on his forehead match the beads of sweat on mine, makes me dizzy.
It makes me drunk and drugged and so high on his attention that when the song crescendos and I do my last spin, I stumble.
The world tips and I lose my balance. The ground seems to have vanished from under my feet and I have no choice but to fall.
He catches me at the last second though.
His arm goes around my waist and instead of crashing down to the ground, I go crashing into his body. My hands land on his ribs and my fingers clutch onto his hoodie.
A thousand thoughts, a thousand sensations, explode in my mind, but the very first that jumps out is that it’s soft.
His hoodie.
It’s the softest, coziest, plushest thing I’ve ever touched. Even more than the sweaters that I knit for my brothers.
The thought that immediately follows is that no wonder he loves it, his hoodie.
No wonder he wears it all the time, because everything else about him is hard and harsh and sharp.
His strong arm that’s wrapped around my waist. The power in his thighs that are pressed against my stomach.
Panting and looking up into his animal eyes, I whisper, “I know that it might not matter, coming from me, but…” I swallow, gripping his hoodie tighter, my brain foggy and my tongue spewing words I don’t understand. “But I think you’re amazing. O-on the field, I mean. You’re just so gorgeous and reckless and feral, the way you… play. It’s no wonder that they call you the Wild Mustang. It’s no wonder…”
I trail off, embarrassed.
What the heck am I saying?
Why am I telling him this?
I shouldn’t. These are my private thoughts.Traitorthoughts that I shouldn’t even entertain.
“No wonder what?” he rasps, his strong, muscled arm squeezing my waist.
I can’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth then. “No wonder why girls can’t stop watching you.”
No wonder why I can’t stop watching you.
A blush fans over my cheeks as soon as I say it and I lower my eyes.
“It does,” he says.
